


Into the Unknown

by MoonyKat



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BAMF Poe Dameron, BAMF Rey, Coz The First Order Are Creepy Bastards, Did I mention spoilers?, F/M, Implied/Referenced Human Experimentation, Leia Organa Is a Good Bro, M/M, Multi, SPOILERS SPOILERS EVERYWHERE, Sentinel/Guide Bonding, Spoilers, Trying to be BAMF and mostly failing Finn, Who Would So Totally Do That
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5495270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonyKat/pseuds/MoonyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*SPOILERS* Finn is having the worst day ever: first the clusterfuck that is Jakku and now, for some reason that might have everything to do with Finn's awful past, the Order thinks he's going to win them a war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Unknown

When Finn left the transport ship he nearly fainted. Screams and blaster fire rent the air and why the fuck did he think he could do this? The air in his helmet was stifling and hot, threatening to choke him and the blaster in his hands felt cumbersome when it should have felt anything but.

And then FN-1284 was hurt and dying and he was running to him before he even knew he was moving, falling to the ground and feeling something jagged and awful tear its way into his chest. From up close he could see FN-1284’s eyes roving wildly, knew his own were wide with horror. ‘I’m the last thing you’re ever going to see,’ he though, feeling fear and despair rise up within him along with the gorge in his throat.

The unsteady hand that came up and dragged itself across his vision leaving streaks of blood, marking him, scarring him, snapped him out of it, made him stumble up and away. 

But then something happened and it was like the horror and despair of all the people around him began to build and build, an unrelenting pressure-pain he’d never felt before in his life, first at the base of his skull and then _spreading_ _._ And it kept building, until it coalesced into a single, cold, hard shard of glass that pierced him straight through to his core.

And before he knew what he was doing, he was moving yet  _again_ , but this time straight into the desert, agony and confusion and some instinctive drive forcing his legs to run, and run, and to keep running, until he wasn’t even aware of the world around him anymore.

“Shoot him!” He heard Captain Phasma yell. “Traitors deserve to die!” But the words meant nothing to Finn; all he could see was the wide expanse of sand before him, dunes and flat barren land as far the eye could see. All he could hear were screams and blaster fire.

Still running and panting from the exertion of it, he reached up to his own face with numb hands and, with fumbling fingers, undid the bindings for his helmet. He threw it away as hard as he could and hoped that by morning it would be nothing more than a strange lump covered in sand, scavenger’s refuse.

The sweat on his face fell without the helmet in the way and stung his eyes, but the cool air felt so _good_ , and so he kept running until he saw a ship in the near distance with two figures standing beside it.

And then his legs decided to give out from under him, sending him skidding face-first across the rough sand. Distantly he thought he heard someone shout and then an odd beeping sound, but that voice, the sound of that voice pierced almost as deeply as the pain had, but it was, he couldn’t even articulate it properly in his own mind, but it felt _good_ where the pain from before had been so bad, so _ugly_. And then the darkness took him.

 

When Finn woke up, he knew exactly where he was, and the knowledge, and the encompassing feelings of helplessness and fear sent the nearby life-signs monitor beside him into a fit of humming and beeping that made Finn curse and struggle against his bindings. He could hardly remember what happened, only the instinctive need to go and escape the horrible pressure in his head, in his chest, but he knew that being restrained wouldn’t be the only awful thing that was going to happen to him if he didn’t break free somehow.

The infirmary was one of the very last places any Stormtrooper would want to be and it was more of a lab than anything, nothing there designed for comfort or care and everything there to probe and hurt. Finn looked around, turning his head against the metal slab they had him on, trying to see if anyone was going to rush in having heard the alarms. The chances were, well, really, _really_ high that someone would hear, but Finn prayed for a little more time. 

Maybe if he could break some of his fingers he could slip out of the restraints? But they were so tight around his wrists they seemed to almost cut into the bone.

He’d have to saw his hands off to escape. “Oh no, no way, not that desperate, that is so out of the question,” he mumbled to himself, feeling panic and fear clogging his throat again.

“You’re going to injure yourself if you keep struggling.” Finn immediately, instinctively stilled. Captain Phasma wasn’t a woman to be ignored. Many Stormtroopers had learned that lesson on the wrong end of her blaster rifle. 

“So, FN-2187, you’ve been hiding something important, haven’t you?” What? What the hell was she talking about? Was she threatening him? Finn looked up at the ceiling, wishing as hard as he could that it would collapse right on top of them killing himself instantly and Phasma very, very slowly. To say he hated Captain Phasma was probably an understatement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Captain.” He gritted out. If he was going to die, and he was pretty sure he was, and painfully at that, he wasn’t going down without at least a little bit of sass. And if his legs weren’t strapped down he would have probably kicked her. In the face.

“Oh, I think you do. You know we do extensive testing for Force sensitivity?” Finn forced himself to keep staring stonily at the ceiling. Of course he knew about the testing, they were all tested every single year, and especially before age of 10.

“What we don’t tell you, and will never tell you, is that we also look for Guide and Sentinel markers.” Whatever her game was, he didn't like it at all. Everyone knew that Guides and Sentinels both were all but extinct, along with the Jedi.

“Why?” His voice was a hoarse croak. 

“Excuse me?” Phasma said, sounding amused. 

“Why, _Captain_?” 

“You’ll have to be clearer, FN-2187, I don’t understand the question.” 

“Why,  _Captain,_ are you testing for Guides and Sentinels when they’re gone?” His voice was an angry bark, and he was almost as proud of himself as he was shit-scared for his life. _'Please don't shoot my head off, please don't shoot my head off.'_

“Hm. Better. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Guides and Sentinels are… important. They would be an advantage against the Resistance. And with the Jedi almost no more, and _that_ we know for certain, Sentinels and Guides are the next best thing." And what the hell did that have to do with him? He was fairly sure that if he were a Guide or Sentinel, he would know it. Like eighty percent sure. 

"You see, FN-2187, Guides and Sentinels are like anybody else.” Here she paused and stepped closer to his “bed”. He fought to stop the automatic flinch. 

“At least until they manifest.”

The last syllable of the last word was a hiss of breath through the filters of her helmet. “The way you manifested on Jakku last night.”

And then she was stabbing him in the neck with a syringe.

“Captain _asshole_ ,” he slurred. 

And the last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him, ( _‘Again,’_ he thought bitterly), was the gleam of her chromium armor and the black of her cape as she turned to leave. 


End file.
